


Feels Like Fire In My Veins

by Sterekism



Series: Machine Shenanigans [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, First Time, Fucking Machines, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Top Derek Hale, Voyeurism, under negotiated kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sterekism/pseuds/Sterekism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Meeya, who is lovely and awesome and is a crazy enabling pervert. This fic is the result of her cheerleading.<br/>---</p><p>The thing had cost him most of his allowance from the past 3 months and all the money he’d collected doing yard work and other shores for practically the entire neighborhood. But he finally had it. The Lovebotz Maestro Sex Machine came with a universal adapter and could go up to 300 rounds per minute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Fire In My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> This was written on and off over the course of 4 months, so the writing is literally all over the place and inconsistent as hell. Be warned. Also, not beta’d.

 Stiles shifted nervously, the ticking of the living room clock a dull reminder of the time he still had to wait. The delivery guy always came at almost the exact same time, tuesdays just after 2 in the afternoon. The packages Stiles normally ordered were a little smaller than this one, he had to admit, but he was sure George would have no trouble transporting it here.

5 minutes to 2. 

Stiles normally didn’t order stuff like this online, preferring to drive to the shop two towns over to buy any merchandise. When he’d softly inquired about this particular machine, he’d been met with wide amused eyes and a chuckle from the lady behind the counter. She’d written down the website where he could order what he wanted and promised him that the packaging would be discrete.

 3 minutes to 2.

The delivery man probably wouldn’t arrive at 2 sharp, but the counting was helping Stiles keep somewhat calm. He felt jittery all over, both from excitement and nerves. Sure, he had some experience with stuff like this, but getting this was definitely next level crazy. He’d already picked the perfect hiding spot in the attic for easy access and safe keeping from his dad. Right behind the box of his mom’s old stuff. The sheriff never went up there, never touched the box. Only Stiles ever did.

1 minute to 2.

He inhaled sharply when his thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. His heartbeat escalated into a sharp staccato that Stiles didn’t need werewolf hearing to hear. He all but ran to the door, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. He was slightly hunched over when he violently pulled the door open. George just raised an eyebrow.

“Stiles Stilinski?” he drawled, like he hadn’t delivered packages here since Stiles was 12. He’d forgotten, in all his excitement, that George was kind of a douchebag.

“Good afternoon to you too George. Forgot my name already huh?” George just stared at him for a second, setting the (somewhat huge, wow) package on the front step.

“Package is for you, sign here.” The guy didn’t even answer Stiles’ question, opting to just hold out the electronic device for Stiles’ signature. Stiles shrugged it off and quickly signed his name and grabbed the package with greedy fingers. George just snorted, turned around without so much as a goodbye, and walked towards the little delivery van.

“Bye George! It was nice seeing you again George! Until next time-”

The car door slammed shut.

“-George. Always a pleasure.”

Stiles carried the package inside and shut the door clumsily with his foot, almost falling flat on his face. He quickly walked up the stairs, heart hammering in his chest with every step. Realisation hitting him with every thud of his feet. He’d bought a damn sex machine, and he was proud of it.

The thing had cost him most of his allowance from the past 3 months and all the money he’d collected doing yard work and other shores for practically the entire neighborhood. But he finally had it. The Lovebotz Maestro Sex Machine came with a universal adapter and could go up to 300 rounds per minute. It had a remote as well, which was kind of a must, because Stiles didn’t know how he’d be able to turn it off if he was pretty sure he’d barely be able to walk afterwards. Once inside his room, Stiles quickly closed the blinds.

Setting it up was easier than he’d expected. It came with a manual that made his mind instantly jump to Ikea furniture and he chuckled nervously at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. He was planning on fucking himself with a machine that could probably jackhammer him to death with the silicone dick attached to it. Stiles had it on good authority that nothing could scare him anymore after the shit he’d been through, but he’d never imagined himself buying something like this. He was actually pretty fucking terrified.

But not in a bad way. Like in the way when you watch scary movies and can’t sleep for days afterwards, but you still watch the sequel. Curiosity, endorphins, thrill. That kind of terrified.

The machine wasn’t that big, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating. Stiles was glad he’d stocked up on lube this weekend, he was going to need it. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t inexperienced with anything phallic, thank you very much. Stiles had had his fair share of adventures involving toys. He was a playful guy in the privacy of his own bedroom, even if no one his age or older had tried their luck at finding out just what Stiles got up to when he was horny..

He tested the machine for a few minutes, the nerves becoming even more tangible now. The excitement and arousal overshadowed it by a landslide though. Stiles could already feel his dick filling up with blood, rubbing uncomfortably against the inside of his boxers.

He adjusted the machine arm some more, carefully pointing it at the general angle he wanted it to fuck him. Just thinking about the pleasure he was going to be in soon made something flutter inside Stiles’ stomach, making it just a little harder to breathe.

He slowly started stripping out of his clothes, drawing it out, his hands rubbing over all the

sensitive spots he’d become intimately acquainted with since he’d hit puberty and discovered the joys of masturbation. He was in a mood for slow today, building himself up until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He was hard and straining before even taking off his boxers, the fabric sliding against the sensitive head of his dick. Stiles hissed quietly, rubbing himself over the top slightly. He slowly dragged the boxers off, his dick bobbing up against his stomach, leaving a little dot of pre-cum in it’s wake.

Stiles walked over to his nightstand, taking out the brand new bottle of lube. Bouncing up onto his bed he rolled around until he’d become comfortable. He patiently opened the bottle, letting some of the slick onto his fingers, rubbing them together until it warmed up slightly. Stiles dragged his fingers down his torso, leaving a trail of wetness beneath his navel and on his thighs. The cooling lube on stomach made him tense slightly, goosebumps erupting on his sensitive skin, but with a sigh he was relaxed again. 

Stiles carefully rubbed one of his fingers over his hole, shivering at the feeling of the still somewhat cold lube. He still remembered the first time he’d awkwardly fingered himself. Stiles hadn’t been able to find the right angle to hit his prostate until at least 20 minutes into the whole ordeal, but now he found it within seconds with minimal trouble. He slowly moved the digit in and out, the drag sending pleasurable shivers down his spine. He was careful to keep his breathing even and relaxed, teasing himself with his free hand. 

Adding a second finger, he adjusted them and pushed in a little harder into his prostate. Fingering himself like this had stopped hurting ages ago. He’d kind of become a pro at fucking himself these days, since no one seemed eager to have a go at him and he’d discovered he would come harder than a freight train if he properly stimulated himself. 

He let out a tiny grunt as he massaged his own insides, gliding and pressing carefully over the bundle of nerves behind his balls. It had been way too long since he’d gotten to take his time like this. The sheriff had an afternoon/evening shift and had left a little over an hour ago. He wouldn’t be home until after midnight at least. Which gave him the perfect opportunity to get dirty like this. 

Stiles took out the fingers, humming slightly as he gave his dick a couple of pulls. He let out a

shivery breath, opening his eyes to stare at the machine again, wondering if he could take it already or if he’d need more prep. He decided to go on for a little while longer, not keen on hurting himself by not being prepared enough. 

He thrust the fingers back in, adding a third one and crooking them, hitting his prostate full on. Stiles let out a loud moan, only muffled when he bit into his pillow a few seconds later. He hoped the neighbours hadn’t heard, but lets the thought go. It’s not like he’s going to be thinking about keeping in his moans when he finally gets to test out the beauty sitting at the end of his bed. Might as well let go completely.  

He blindly groped for the bottle of lube he’d discarded earlier, popping it open and adding more lube to the slick mess between his legs. After thrusting a couple of more times he added a fourth finger, the slight burn making him hiss in pleasure. He arched his back, feverishly breathing in and out. His dick jumped as he let out another loud moan. Stiles clumsily dragged his thumb over the head, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered there over the top of his dick and down the shaft.

He took out the digits, teasing his rim a little as he sat up slowly. He shifted onto his knees, crawling over to the end of the bed like he was putting on a show for an audience. Stiles kind of loved that _had_ anyone been watching, He would’ve looked like he belonged on the set of a cheap porn. It made his dick twitch, thinking about having people look at him while he did this, while he fucked himself into oblivion. 

He slicked up the silicone dildo with his left hand, while slowly thrusting his own dick into his right. Stiles was so ready to try this thing out, the arousal buzzing inside him making it hard to think.

He sank back down onto his back, dragging one of his pillows under his hips as he grabbed for the remote. He angled himself the right way and slowly turned the switch on the machine, making sure it was at the right position to thrust into him properly. He’d planted his feet firmly on the bed, knees in the air, as the contraption whirred to live at a sluggish pace. The dildo dragged against Stiles’ ass and he hissed at the cold silicone. It didn’t penetrate though, as it retracted to it’s former position.

He scooted down a little further, making sure it did penetrate this time and held his breath in anticipation. The head of the dildo pushed against his rim before popping past and slowly moved into him. Stiles let out a breathy groan as he slowly adjusted to the invasion. The silicone head was deliciously dragging against Stiles’ inner walls, never stopping it’s movements even though the girth caused a low burn. 

Stiles was used to being able to _adjust_ to anything put into his ass, letting something move constantly was a nice change from when he’d wait until he got used to the width and length of some of his toys. It also felt extremely different, having both his hands free to do whatever he pleased with them. Stiles didn’t really know what to do with them now, opting to just clench them in the sheets and around the remote until he thought of something. He slowly upped the speed of the machine, breathing out shakily with every thrust. The burn at his rim was slowly turning into tingling pleasure, as the silicone started heating up from the friction and Stiles’ body heat. 

He lazily moved his hand up and down his stomach as he shifted his hips to get a better angle. Stiles didn’t touch himself below his hips, afraid he’d spoil it and have this be over too soon. He knew doggy-style would’ve been an easier way to get prostate stimulation, but Stiles knew he’d come within minutes that way. He wondered what it’d be like to have someone do this to him for real. How it would feel to have someone leaning over him, breathing into his neck, whispering about how tight he was on their dick.Giving him no choice but to adjust to being fucked, slow or hard, with quick thrusts or drags that made him whimper. 

Stiles tweaked one of his nipples as he made the machine go a little faster. It was going at a steady pace now, just a fraction too slow to actually make him quiver, but enough to make his heart race. He imagined a man teasingly thrusting into him, making him groan in frustration and need. Then again, there was something obscenely dirty about having a machine fuck him, instead of a person. 

Now, someone _looking_ at him, maybe even jerking off at the sight of him being slowly taken apart by an electronic device… that was… 

Too hot to describe accurately, actually. Stiles could feel himself flush all over at the thought, making him feel feverish and too big for his own skin. He grabbed his dick and clenched his fist, afraid he might come. 

Exhibitionism. Huh. That was a new one. 

He stared at the ceiling, the dildo still moving into him at the same pace. Like many of his other kinks, Stiles took this in stride. It was a thing he wanted to explore though, just for the hell of it. Because why not?

He closed his eyes, taking his hand away from his dick, careful to not cause any friction, and clenched it back in the sheets.Stiles imagined faceless men watching him, whispering about how good he was taking it, how he was a good boy for taking the dildo so well. Like he was made to be fucked by it. By them. By him. _Only_ him.

So what if the moans he let out were kind of embarrassingly loud? So what if he was kind of squirming on his bed at the thought? Stiles upped the speed of the machine and shifted, the silicone head brushing against his prostate every few thrusts. 

The faceless man watching from behind Stiles’ eyelids wasn’t really faceless anymore, but Stiles would deny it to his grave. The eyes weren’t empty and dark, but glowing blue in the darkness of the room of his fantasy. He was encouraging Stiles in that annoying sarcastic low tone of his, the one that had made Stiles jerk off in frustration as soon as he’d get home, many times in the past. The images were vivid, almost tangible.

It wasn’t like Derek hadn’t popped up in his fantasies before, but this was somehow more…. _intense_. He’d imagined Derek leaning over him, thrusting one of Stiles toys into him, constantly changing the pace. Smirking when Stiles would beg for release. Thinking about the werewolf when he was trying to come wasn’t really anything new, however reluctant he was to admit it. He was a teenager. Derek looked like he’d walked right out of a magazine 3/4 of the time and like he was a cocky porn star for the remainder. It wasn’t exactly rocket science. He was walking talking spankbank material, if you didn’t mind his sour personality. Which Stiles didn’t. Not really. 

He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat and opened his eyes. The room was silent except for his heavy breathing, the whirring of the machine and the slick sound of thrusting. It made Stiles feel extremely dirty in an extremely satisfying way. What he wasn’t satisfied with, however, was the angle. It had been good so far, but not mind blowing. Most of the arousal and pleasure had been fueled by his fantasies and anticipation. 

He slowed down the machine and scooted back on the bed, the silicone no longer inside of him. He felt empty, uncomfortable, without it. Stiles never really got used to the feeling of the emptiness after using toys. He contemplated what to do and sighed before getting up off the bed. His dick was protesting, having not been touched in a while, but Stiles ignored it. Missionary hadn’t made him scream so far, time for something else. He adjusted the height of the machine frame with shaky hands, trying to figure out the right angle for this to work. When he was satisfied, he got back on the bed, on his knees this time. 

He thought about how this might look. How obscene this actually was. Stiles grabbed the remote again, sitting back until he could feel the still head against his hole. He turned the dial up faster than he had the previous time, opting to start at a harder pace than he’d gotten to in the previous position. 

The first thrust had made him yelp, the second had him whimpering, the third had him a quivering moaning mess. He lost count after the 4th, too busy trying to not come on the spot. The angle was _perfect_ this time, the dildo jamming right into the most sensitive places. Stiles was incredibly aware that he was moaning like a whore, but couldn’t give a damn. He imagined being taken like this, from behind and on all fours. He muffled the sounds he was making with the pillow he was currently clutching against his face. Stiles wondered if Derek’s dick would feel like this as he adjusted the remote to an even higher pace.

The machine was hammering into him now, at a relentless pace, and Stiles was almost afraid he’d break. If it wasn’t for the coiling heat inside of his stomach and the sharp, all consuming pleasure with every jab against his prostate, he would’ve turned down the speed instead of turning it up. He was _so close_ , muttering into his pillow now, the words spilling out unintentionally. Most of it was unintelligible gibberish, cut off words forced out between hisses and sharp inhales of air. One thing was constantly repeated, like an echo only stopped by his sheets. _Derek, Derek, Derek, Derek._

It isn’t really strange that his heart almost literally stops when his window slams open and Derek Hale tumbles inside, wolfed out, screaming his name like he was in danger, right when he’s about to come. He buries his face into the pillow and pretends that his life is normal for just a second before manning up and turning off the machine with the remote. His heart is beating so loud he can feel it all the way up in his throat and he doesn’t dare look up, afraid that Derek might _actually kill_ him for real this time. 

It’s extremely silent in the room now, only the breeze from the open window and both of their panting breaths making any sound at all. 

“I- Sti- what is- I-” Stiles would’ve normally made fun of Derek’s stumbling, but he was kind of in the middle of his bed with a dildo up his ass attached to a machine that had a pretty forward purpose, on his knees, buck-ass naked. He didn’t really feel like calling him out on it at the moment. 

 _“_ What are you _doing?”_ Derek asked incredulously, finally getting the words out. Stiles cringed in mortification. It wasn’t like Derek couldn’t _see_ what the fuck Stiles was doing, for Christ’s sake. Why did he have to make this worse by _asking_. It really couldn’t get any worse than this. 

“I thought you were _hurt_ because you were- You were yelling my name, what the hell is-” Derek cut himself off, which probably meant that Derek was _finally_ realising what must be happening before his wolfy eyes. Apparently, it _could_ get worse. Stiles hated his life. With the intensity of a thousand suns. He buried his head deeper into the pillow, sure that the lobster red face he was sporting right now wouldn’t help his case. 

“Stiles, look at me,” Derek demanded, but Stiles wasn’t having any of it. Nope. He wasn’t gonna look nu-uh. “ _Stiles._ Look. at. me.” 

He reluctantly lifted his head from the pillow and looked into Derek’s general direction. Screw it all to hell. 

“What do you _want_ Derek? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Fuck it all. He was going to play this cool. He wasn’t going to be embarrassed by this. He was not going to let this get to him. This was his _Stiles_ _time_ damn it. 

“You were yelling my na-” 

“Yeah I was,” Stiles interrupted, letting irritation bleed into his tone, “So? You suddenly can’t distinguish smells enough to _not_ burst into my room when the blinds are closed in the middle of the fucking day?” 

“I thought you were in danger!” Derek snarled. “You sounded like you were in pain-” 

“I wasn’t.Obviously. Can you _please leave. God-_ this is embarrassing enough as it is. _Why_ are you still standing in my room demanding _answers_?” Stiles had to admit he kind of wanted to laugh at Derek’s gaping fish expression. But he was still there. On his bed. With a dildo. Attached to a machine. No room for laughter. Nope. 

He quickly moved away from the contraption, hissing when the silicone cock slipped out. His erection had almost completely disappeared from shock and embarrassment at some point during their stilted conversation. Stiles quickly wrapped his soiled sheets around his waist in an effort to regain some form of dignity. 

Derek was just _staring_ at him. Intently. It was creepy. And kind of hot. He felt his dick twitch in interest, remembering the graphic fantasy he’d been having before Derek decided to grace Stiles with his presence, but Stiles quickly and forcefully dismissed his thoughts. His entire room had to smell like sex right now, there was just no way that Derek was going to let him live this down, get out through the window he came from and just forget this _ever_ happened. 

“Why the hell were you yelling _my name_?” The werewolf demanded, and Stiles could _swear_ he saw a blush creeping up Derek’s neck. There was just _no way_. Maybe Derek was a prude and the sight of Stiles’ body was damaging his delicate sensibilities. Who would’ve thought. 

“I wasn’t _yelling_ you asshole I was just- I- You _know_ why. Don’t play dumb with me, Derek. I’m a teenager, you’re hot enough to put models to shame. Not that hard to figure that one out.” The blush on Derek’s neck seemed to expand and- 

 _“Oh my god.”_  Derek’s eyes flashed at Stiles’ words and seemed to drift slowly down, nostrils flaring- “ _Oh my fucking god!”_  

Derek was _checking him out_. Scenting him even. This time he did laugh. Hysterically _._ Not in the good kind of hysterical way either, nope. Not the clutching your sides giggles. These were full on frantic hiccups from sheer disbelief. He abruptly stopped laughing when Derek’s face closed off into it’s usual scowl. Derek moved back towards the window he’d come through, probably intent on making a run for it. 

 _“_ Don’t you dare leave now _._ ” The words were out faster than Stiles registered, leaving his mouth in a jumbled mess of breathy syllables. Derek turned back around, staring intently at him. 

Stiles felt like his heart was going to explode right out of his chest from beating so fast. Derek had to have heard it, because he let out a harsh breath and seemed to contemplate the situation, hesitantly taking a step towards the bed. Derek was either going to do something kind of illegal or something _extremely_ illegal right now. The first one, the one Stiles was hoping for, involved hands and lube and other fun things. Like Derek’s dick. The second involved teeth (though that probably wouldn’t be a problem in the first option either) used  in the ‘ripping throat out’ kind of fashion. One that Stiles wasn’t particularly fond of. He didn’t know whether to cheer at the fact that his dick twitched under the bunched up sheets in his lap or feel extremely scared, so he just swallowed nervously and tried to relax his rigid body. 

Derek just growled, looked away and seemed to suddenly find Stiles’ bare bedroom wall more interesting than the naked teen sitting on the bed. 

The silence went on for a few minutes, neither of them making a move to change their current situation. Stiles’ mind started wandering again, not really being able to stop it this time. Derek was _interested_ in Stiles, or at least had some unresolved tension. Stiles had seen that blush, damn it, he wasn’t hallucinating. The shock of Derek’s sudden arrival had worn off and the excitement was seeping back into Stiles’ bones, his flaccid cock slowly filling again. Derek’s eyes snapped back to him, burning that impossible inhuman blue as they stared. Must have smelled it, Stiles thought, the residual smell of arousal becoming stronger again. 

Stiles held Derek’s gaze for only a few seconds, deciding on letting his eyes wander instead. He took in Derek’s balled fists, the way he seemed to be slightly out of breath, his tense shoulders. He was shamelessly checking Derek out now, not seeing the point in denying himself this anymore. Cat was already out of the bag, might as well enjoy the view. No decency  left to lose. 

His heart started thundering in his chest again as Derek finally _moved_. His strides were careful and hesitant, almost like a frightened animal slowly but curiously approaching the unknown. It made Stiles feel like the predator for once. Like a single movement from him would send Derek running. Stiles swallowed dryly and looked down as Derek stopped only about a foot away from the bed. 

Stiles closed his eyes, breath stuttering out of him when Derek touched his shoulder, tracing his fingers up Stiles neck, under his chin, lifting it so Stiles has no choice but to look up. Derek’s eyes were no longer glowing, but Stiles can see that his pupils are blown, that the flush he’d spotted earlier is once again staining the werewolf’s stubbled cheeks. He wondered if his face mirrored Derek’s. It probably was. Except about a hundred times less attractive. His cheeks were probably colored a blotchy red, his eyes comically wide. Stiles slowly sat up on his knees, aware that the sheets slipped from his lap and hips. Derek’s fingers traced over his jaw. Stiles swallowed harshly. 

He didn’t dare open them, even when he felt the bed dip under Derek’s knees- knee? Leg? Maybe arm? Stiles was _distracted_ ok? He couldn’t focus when shit like this was going down. Things like this didn’t happen to people like him. Stiles felt hot breath ghost over his lips and let out a harsh breath in return, not completely sure when he stopped breathing in the first place. 

Derek’s lips were softer than he’d expected. When fantasizing- _dreaming_ about this, the way Derek kissed had always been harsh, not tentative. Rough, not curious. It made something flutter low in his stomach. The way Derek’s stubble scraped on Stiles’ cheeks made his blood burn. The kissing didn’t stay tentative though, which Stiles was glad for. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it if Derek were always like this. 

He grabbed onto the man’s shirt, pulling him in a little closer. Just a little bit. Stiles didn’t want to seem overeager, even if his dick had other ideas. Derek’s kissing turned hungry and Stiles wouldn’t mind being eaten alive at this point. He was pretty sure he’d die a happy man either way. Stiles let out a happy groan when Derek’s hands joined the party, grabbing and exploring his body in an almost frantic manner. Stiles mirrored his movements, tugging impatiently at Derek’s shirt. The man broke the kiss, harshly panting into Stiles’ neck.

“You have no idea how good you looked, do you?” Derek whispered, “Being fucked open by a fake cock. Begging to be taken by a real one.” His hands were groping Stiles’ ass cheeks, his stubble scraping against Stiles’ neck and shoulder.

Derek liked talking dirty.

 Stiles was going to _die._  

He let out a (manly. _manly damn it_ ) whimper, when he felt Derek’s finger drag over his already stretched rim. Stiles felt and heard Derek groan into his neck, the vibration instantly traveling towards his dick, making the small drop of pre-come on the tip slowly drool onto his sheets. He would’ve been embarrassed by it, weren’t it for the obvious hard on Derek was sporting inside his jeans. 

“Where’d you even get that thing, Stiles?” Derek asked as he slipped one of his fingers into Stiles’ slick hole. “Did you drive a few towns over? Did you order it online?” Stiles let out an affirming groan, nodding his head. He wasn’t sure if talking was the best idea right now. He was pretty sure the only that’d come out would be garbled nonsense. “Online then. I bet you spent hours looking for the perfect one, jerking off to the idea of being fucked by it.” Derek twisted his finger around, brushing insistently at his prostate. 

“ _Fuck,_ Derek!” Stiles yelped, clenching at the sensation. His hands were pawing pathetically at Derek’s chest, unable to find a clear purpose. A second finger joined in next to the first one. Stiles rocked back on them wantonly. “ _Oh my god-”_  

“Have you used it a lot?” Derek emphasised every word with a flick of his fingers, leaving Stiles a babbling mess. “I bet you haven’t. I bet-” He added another finger, three now pushing into Stiles’ prostate with every thrust. “-that this is the first time you’re using it.” Even while feeling as good as Stiles was feeling right now, the embarrassment still made him flush a bright red.

“T-That’s none of your- _fuck-_ business you bastar-” Stiles’ temporary tirade was interrupted by Derek’s insistent lips attack his once again. So what if Stiles melted into it? Derek was a damn good kisser, just this side of too rough, strangely intoxicating. His tongue mapped every crevice of Stiles’ mouth, eliciting sounds that Stiles was pretty sure he’d never made before. 

“Oh but it is Stiles, especially when you imagine it’s _me_ fucking you. Moaning my name like a whore.” Stiles hisses when Derek slaps his ass and grabs it hard. God, he wasn’t supposed to be having all kinds of sexual awakenings right now. First exhibitionism, now spanking? He was just supposed to have his ‘Stiles Time’ without fear of interruption, was that too much to ask? 

“So you want your ‘Stiles Time’ huh? You should’ve just said so.” Derek’s fingers abruptly left his abused hole. Stiles realises that he must’ve said the last few things out loud, because Derek swiftly got up from the bed, grabbed the remote and sat down in Stiles’ desk chair. 

Stiles gaped. He was still on his knees on the bed, his cock an angry red from neglect, his neck throbbing from stubble-burn and hastily left bites.

“Show me Stiles. Show me what you do when you’re alone.” Derek must’ve heard the exhibitionism part of his babbled thoughts as well, because he swore that Derek was getting off on this. On watching Stiles slowly fall apart. “I’ll fuck you afterwards.” 

The room was utterly silent for a few seconds, Stiles’ breath stopping short. _Holy fuck._ Derek Hale was going to fuck him. He scrambled to the end of the bed, trying to remember what position he’d been in earlier, but his concentration was pretty much shot to hell. He couldn’t focus with Derek’s eyes following his every move, burning into him like brands. Stiles didn’t dare looking back at Derek when he heard the man’s zipper being undone, the sound of fabric rustling. He was pretty sure he’d come right then and there if he saw Derek jerking off. 

His skin felt feverish, his heart beating faster than was probably healthy. He slowly turned his ass towards the machine, remembering the position he’d been in when Derek had rudely intruded. Not that Stiles minded now. He didn’t mind at all. Derek was hotter than the _sun_ , and apparently attracted to a fumbling sexually experimenting teenager.  +10 points for Stiles. -5 for him not managing to get in the right position. 

Derek was impatiently ticking the remote on Stiles’ desk, every beat of it mimicking his heartbeat, which Derek must be listening to right now. It was a strangely arousing thought. Stiles wondered if Derek’s heart was beating just as fast as his. Wondered if Derek’s dick was pulsing in his jeans (or in his hand), just like Stiles’. He finally managed to find a comfortable way to push back on the silicone. It was sitting completely still, the tip just inside Stiles. He waited breathlessly for Derek to turn it on. When he finally did, it was at a torturously slow pace. 

Stiles groaned in frustration. His cock was starting to _hurt_ from straining for so long. He was getting dick-whiplash from the way he’d been going from soft to hard to soft to hard again in the last 20 minutes. “Turn it up damn it. You want to know how I do Stiles time? This isn’t Stiles time. I don’t torture myself like this,” Stiles huffed mockingly. “This isn’t my first rodeo so _get on with it_.” He was pretty sure he heard a cut-off moan at that. Stiles felt ridiculously proud of himself. 

He felt the machine come to life inside him, thrusting in like it had before. The pretense of going slow had been lost it seemed, because Derek cranked it up to one of the higher settings almost instantly. 

Stiles was a quivering mess within seconds. He didn’t know _how,_ but the silicone was rubbing against his prostate with every thrust. It was like Derek had magic remote control powers. Stiles shifted a little bit, the feeling too overwhelming in it’s intensity. His head was resting on his arms, as he thought about what he was doing. He was letting someone watch him get off by being fucked by a fucking machine and _loving it._ Stiles was sure there was a special place in hell reserved just for him. Every pump of the machine made Stiles’ blood rush faster, each thrust made his breathing harsher. 

“You aren’t allowed to come until I tell you to.” Derek’s whisper barely traveled across the room over the machine’s noise, but Stiles heard it perfectly. It felt like a rush of shockingly cold water all over his limbs. He ignored the way his stomach flipped pleasantly at the implication of Derek taking total control. 

“Fuck you, I’ll come when I want you dickf _aceeee-oh sweet mother of-_ ” Derek slowed the machine down again, to the same torturous pace he’d set before Stiles complained. “No no no no okay _please_ I’ll obey I promise, _please don’t slow it down_.” Fucking _douchebag._ Derek wanted to play games huh? Stiles could work with that. “Please Derek, I _need_ it. Please fuck me. I want it so much.” Stiles made sure that his begging sounded breathy and needy. The sharp intake of breath from Derek was worth the slightly humiliating but arousing acts he had to go through.

It was starting to get painfully obvious that Derek got off on making Stiles a mess of need and want. If Derek wanted to torture him, who would Stiles be if he didn’t try to return the favor? 

Derek sped up the machine again, stoically silent. Stiles decided to up his game, lifting his head from his arms and staring right at Derek. The man was still sitting in Stiles’ desk chair, (impressive) dick in hand, stroking it at a calm pace. Stiles almost came at the sight. The frown usually marred Derek’s face was nowhere to be seen. His face was slack with unmasked pleasure, his eyes staring intently at Stiles. Stiles noticed that the pace Derek was using matched that of the machine and felt his dick twitch. He wondered how it would feel to be fucked by Derek. If he’d keep the same pace he was using now, make Stiles fall apart with little twists and twitches of his fingers or his tongue. He whimpered at the image, the silicone inside him dragging against his inner walls.

“Are you picturing it?” Derek asked, slowly getting up from the chair and still lazily tugging at his dick. “Are you picturing me fucking you?” His voice sounded wondering and Stiles just clenched his hands in the sheets, making an unattractive noise. His eyes never left Derek’s slowly advancing form, but the jolts of pleasure coursing through him were slowly driving him insane. He needed to come, soon, or he’d actually lose his fucking mind. He totally was picturing it, just like Derek said. “I can’t wait to stretch you out myself.” 

Stiles didn’t really catch how Derek did it, too busy _dying_ over Derek’s words, but the man was suddenly and blissfully shirtless. The sight never failed to make Stiles feel both intimidated and worked up. It was always a challenge, trying to not smell like he was 3 seconds from popping a boner in public when Derek decided it was time to lose clothing. 

Derek dragged his pants down, kicking them off slowly. Stiles just wriggled on the bed, biting his fist to keep from squeaking when Derek put the remote between his teeth and climbed up on the mattress. His eyes were flashing blue again, showing how hard Derek was trying not to lose control. He looked like a predator, because he was, and Stiles was totally his willing prey. Being consumed by someone like Derek had been on Stiles’ bucket list since they _met._  

Derek dragged his fingers over Stiles’ back, mesmerized, and everything around Stiles seemed to fade away. The touch was tentative, lightly skimming over his skin, goosebumps rising in the wake of Derek’s wandering hands. The machine was working at a normal pace now, not too fast, not too slow. It kept Stiles craving for more. He was dangling on the edge, but still felt unsatisfied. He wanted _Derek._  

The man was sitting on his knees, slowly jacking off to the sight of Stiles getting fucked. He looked beautiful, a blush rising high on his cheeks, his breathing slightly labored. 

“Turn it off.” The words left Stiles’ lips before he could stop himself. Derek looked confused, turning off the machine, but Stiles didn’t give him time to mull over whatever was going on in his head, sliding off and sitting up. 

“Why?” Derek asked, incredulous, “I thought you _liked_ me watching.” 

“Oh, I do,” Stiles answered, “I _really really_ do. But I want _you_ more than I want this thing. Do we need a condom? Werewolves heal from everything right? So you don’t have any diseases and I’m already pretty sloppy down there so it won’t make a difference if we don’t use one. ” The words came out in a rush. The silence that followed his little spur of the moment ramble made Stiles swallow. 

He was lying horizontal about 2 seconds later, Derek hovering over him. Stiles could count Derek’s eyelashes from this position. 

“You sure?” Derek asked gruffly and wow that was Derek’s dick sitting inches from Stiles butt. Stiles was totally okay with this. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to fuck me? Should I just kick you out and do this on my own, because I was doing just fine before you came in _nnnnn- shit,_ ” Derek was inside of him before he could finish his sentence. Stiles whimpered pathetically, because this felt _so different_. Derek was a furnace on top of him, breathing harshly against Stiles’ collarbone as he stilled, waiting for Stiles to adjust. Stiles just wriggled impatiently against him. Derek was bigger than the dildo, yes, but not big enough to hurt much at all. The burn was a pleasant reminder that Stiles was totally losing his virginity right now, so it was more of bonus than an annoyance. 

Stiles clenched down, wondering how Derek would react. He was rewarded with a shallow thrust and a hissed breath. Chuckling, Stiles did it again, wriggling at the same time. 

“ _Stop that_ ,” Derek groaned and Stiles just grinned. 

“Why? Can’t handle me, fuzzbutt?” And _wow_ Derek was moving, _hell yes_. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, you know that?” Derek didn’t answer the question, but Stiles was totally okay with that. More than okay really, because Derek was slowly thrusting into him, trying to find the right angle to- 

 _“Fuck_. Do that again,” Stiles garbled as Derek hit his prostate. Derek did so, rapidly increasing the speed of his thrusts until Stiles was writhing against his sheets, his hands trying to cling to anything within reach. Derek moaned obscenely when Stiles’ nails dug into his back, losing his rhythm a little, and Stiles was totally filing that away for future reference. Because there was just _no way_ Stiles was going to allow this to be a one time thing. No sir, not when the sex was _this good_. Stiles lost his track of thought when Derek started jerking him off in time with his thrusts. 

“If you keep doing that I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” Stiles moaned out, the friction on his dick making it nearly impossible to force the words out. 

“Who says I’m not trying to do exactly that?” Smug bastard. Derek punctuated every word with a quick push and pull inside of Stiles. Against Stiles’ prostate. Stiles dug his nails into Derek’s back again, making sure that Derek _knew_ what he was doing to Stiles’ fragile sanity. Derek hissed a tiny ‘fuck’ and sped up again. 

Vaguely aware of the headboard mashing against the wall, Stiles concentrated on the sensation of Derek pistoning inside of him, huffing softly from the effort. Stiles was sure he must look like a bitch in heat, wriggling on Derek’s cock and demanding more, but he didn’t care.

 When Derek started pulling at his dick too, Stiles was a goner. 

Thick ropes of come landed on his own stomach and chin, his face warped into a silent scream of pleasure, eyes screwed shut. Derek fucked him through it, every movement of his hips making Stiles whimper in uncontained ecstasy. Every glance against his prostate wrenching a desperate sound from his mouth. 

Derek lost his rhythm soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as Stiles clenched around him. When he stilled completely, his hands branding themselves on Stiles hips, Stiles sat up slightly and captured Derek’s lips. 

The kiss was filthy, wet and _perfect_. Stiles would actually kill Derek if they didn’t do this again. Would probably skin Derek if he deprived Stiles of feeling like this again. Stiles flopped back down, breaking the kiss and breathing hard. Derek slowly pulled out and laid down next to him, panting softly. 

Stiles grinned at the ceiling and laced his fingers into Derek’s, noting Derek’s breathing slowing and his fingers gripping Stiles’ tightly. 

“Next time, you get to watch while I use that thing,” Derek muttered, obviously close to falling to sleep. 

“Deal,” Stiles answered playfully before closing his own eyes. He’d probably be sore and sticky and uncomfortable in a couple of hours, but he decided to worry about it later. For now, he wanted to savor the afterglow and admire the now sleeping werewolf next to him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [ tumblr ](sterekism.tumblr.com) and [ twitter](sterekism.tumblr.com) <3


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